Agape
by Elspeth.Davidson
Summary: Based very much on the books, this is a series of three snapshots exploring three crucial moments of Peter Pevensie's life. I recommend rereading books 2,4, and 7 if you 'don't get it'.


_Author's note: The title 'Agape' is the Greek New Testament term for 'unconditional love'._

* * *

**Agape**

"Aslan ... I don't know if I can," he had said, fingering the crown that rested on his head. It fitted perfectly, yet the weight of gold and responsibility pressing down felt unfamiliar and slightly frightening. The coronation had been glorious, the crowd jubilant, and himself confident, yet it was moments like these which he treasured most - the precious minutes spent in private with the great Lion, standing on a balcony watching the sun melt itself into the golden, windswept sea.

He lifted the diadem slightly, the metal catching the last rays of the sun and flaming to life in his hands. "It's so _large_." He might have been talking about the crown, the country, or the kingship, but he knew that Aslan would understand what he meant - the combination of the three, and his own experience in relation to them.

A massive, velveted paw reached out and tenderly guided the boy's hands to replace the circlet. He looked into the Lion's face, into the eyes filled with unfathomable gentleness and purpose, and bowed his head.

"Peter." The voice was heavy, melodious, and unforgettably wild. "Do you love me?"

He froze in shock. He had expected a doubter's reproof, but this ...? "Aslan! Of course I love you!" He had fought battles and shed blood in the Lion's name; how could there be any question? His indignance was quelled by the deep smile in Aslan's eyes, leaving him wondering. It was an answer, of sorts, he realized.

And Peter the prince had taken the throne to rule.

* * *

"Aslan ... never return?" He had been crushed, bewildered. This Narnia was _his_; every castle, river, coastline, talking animal, even the trees they stood privately among were bound to him. Yes, Caspian was the victorious king, but once a king in Narnia, always a king in Narnia, right? "How could I be too old?" His deepening voice cracked and he winced, not only at this sign of his fast-approaching maturity, but also at the rift that Aslan was opening between him and his land.

The afternoon sun slanted through the overhead leaves, awakening the Lion's gilded body into fire, a twisting, rippling sheen of muscle and fur. He longed to be comforted, to be told that this was a test, but Aslan stood immobile. It was unbearable, that silence - he sprang forward and buried his face and arms in the flickers of the mane, sobbing the fullness of his sorrow into the unquenchable flame. He could let Narnia go, if he had to, but to be parted from Aslan forever ... "Don't make me leave you - I couldn't _live_!"

"Peter, Son of Adam." A single paw, its daggers sheathed, rested upon his shoulder.

He quieted gradually, breathing deeply of the warmth and sweetness of the Lion.

"Do you love me?" The question again.

His answer was slow, absorbing and echoing the infinite love in the Lion's eyes. "Of course, Aslan ... I love you more than Narnia, more than life." He understood the answer then, he thought. The ties of love knew nothing of the boundaries between worlds - somehow, Aslan would never leave him. Straightening his back and resolving his fealty, he strode down the hillside toward his siblings.

And Peter the knight had walked through the airy door.

* * *

"Aslan," he whispered now, into the grime and soot of the railway station, "it's impossible." The Lion Himself had said that he would never go back; he was too old. The grubby antique rings in his pocket were not intended for him, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that, if he got on this train, something in that forbidden land would pull him inexorably toward itself. But if Aslan had decreed that he could not return, would he be destroyed before he reached Narnia? He knew enough of Aslan to know that years and centuries did nothing to change the Lion's promises. It was heartrending, feeling that Aslan wanted him in Narnia, yet had made it impossible to get there. How could he embark on this incomprehensible journey?

Rubbing the roughness around his jawbone as was his habit when thinking, he leaned forward on the knotholed bench, feeling the hardness of his adult muscles strain against the fabric of his shirt.

"Peter, lovest thou me?"

The phrasing was archaic, but the voice was fresh in his memory: golden and eternally untamed, igniting a flame in his soul.

_Do you love me_?

The question that had been asked of him during the most significant moments of his life.

_Do you love me_?

Yes, and he had ruled Narnia in what was ever after known as its Golden Age.

_Do you love me_?

Yes, and he had stepped over the door's threshold to search for, and find, the name by which the Lion was known in England.

_Do you love me_?

The question had always been followed by action. The deep, pure love in Aslan's eyes had not been a result of his actions; his answers and actions had always been a response to the unconditional love of the Lion, who had first loved him. Actions and trust were simply concrete proofs of his verbal reply.

With a puff of white steam and a screech of metal brakes, the train pulled into the station.

_Peter, Son of Adam, do you love me_?

The blaze in his soul spread like wildfire to his heart as he realized that the question now became one of faith in a friend. Could he trust the impossible love of the Lion beyond life, beyond death, and beyond worlds? His intuition told him that, if he got on this train, an entire new unknown was waiting for him.

He stood resolutely, his lips forming the words rising from his heart. "Aslan, you _know_ I love you - time until infinity, world without end."

And Peter the man boarded the train.


End file.
